Does he want his phone or not?

My fingers clench on the phone. I don’t know how to react. It’s like I’m numb.

Who are you and why do you have David’s phone? I don’t understand.

I’m genuinely starting to panic, and I have a bad feeling about all this. I thought it was David making a joke, but now, I’m not sure it’s him.

He left it in my car. You must be the blonde in the red dress? I’m the Lift driver who dropped you two off earlier. You guys were quite busy in the back seat; no wonder he forgot it.

The blonde? What blonde? This is either a sick joke or a terrible misunderstanding.

Not a blonde and I haven’t worn a dress in ages. David was with a blonde in your car?

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. What’s going on? This can’t be happening.

Oops. Sorry, he texts back.

Ooops, sorry? I feel like crying and screaming at the same time. Is this for real?

If you’re not the woman I met, then who are you?

Just David’s girlfriend of 5 years!! No big deal.

Now I’m starting to feel angry and humiliated. I take deep breaths, and my hands shake.

Maybe they were just friends, he texts.

I thought you said they were all over each other. That doesn’t sound like friends.

He doesn’t text back.

How naïve of me. Flying thousands of miles to surprise him on his ‘business trip’. What a fool I’ve been. What a fool. Business trips, that’s what they’re called now?

The man texts me back. Don’t want to be insensitive, but what do you want me to do with the phone? Bring it to you?

Sure. Whatever.

Where are you?

At the airport like an idiot. Just came from NYC to surprise him.

I’m really sorry, he texts. I feel guilty now.

A minute later. How will I recognize you?

Green-blue backpack, Guns N’ Roses T-shirt and jeans. Brunette—NOT BLONDE, OK? Shoulder-length hair. Sunglasses. Sat right outside arrivals.

Five

If today was a story, it wouldn’t be one I’d write. Even if I hated the main character.

An hour ago, I was waiting for David to call me back so I could reveal the big surprise. I was so excited. Fifteen minutes ago, I was trying not to cry in public—or to scream; it varied from moment to moment. I was so heartbroken, mad, and humiliated. And now, here I am. About to board an airport shuttle to Carmel by the Sea, a small oceanside town. Somewhere out there.

How did I get here? How did I get from recovering David’s cell phone to not wanting anything to do with him? And why did I say yes to the Lift driver’s suggestion that I should hop on a bus for three hours to go to a town I’ve never heard of?

It probably started with the realization that I was pathetic. Why would I want David’s phone? To do what with? He was out there somewhere, busy cheating on me, and I was busy taking care of his belongings? I texted the driver back that he could keep it and do whatever he wanted with it. Somehow in our back and forth texts, it slipped that it’s my birthday and how disappointing everything is and how I imagined the day would go.